The Soldier, the Aristocrat, and the Lady
by stole-my-fish
Summary: PruAus WWII AU. Roderich walks in on his fiance Elizabeta with another man. This man is none other than Gilbert Beilshmidt.In the wake of the break up, the two become unlikely friends. Will this anti-romance ever become love? Rating subject to change.


It was the summer of 1939, a lovely summer for the small remote Austrian village that Roderich Edelstein lived in. Wildflowers were blooming in the fields as he strolled down the unpaved road to the town with a secretive smile on his face.

He had decided that today was the day he was finally going to propose to his long time, on-and-off girlfriend Elizabeta.

There was not a dark cloud in sight, and even the cows seemed to moo happily as he bent down and plucked a handful of daffodils for his lady love. He quietly hummed Debussy's Arabesque as the town came into sight at the top of a hill. A few more minutes and he was in the village square , right in the center of the daily hustle and bustle.

Roderich knew for a fact that there was war in other countries, but the Austrian surrender to Hitler the previous year had been fairly peaceful, and to his town near the Swiss Alps, the world was nearly untouched.

He greeted people he knew as he passed them. "Hallo, Herr Edelstein!" "Gutentagh, Herr Wagner." The smile from before still hung on his pale lips as he nearly skipped past a small group of German soldiers; the only sign for him there even _was_ a war, and up to the Hedervary residence.

Not bothering to knock, he pushed the mahogany door open and stepped inside, immersing himself in the rich Hungarian décor. All was silent as he crept through the house. Roderich did not call out for Eliza, for fear she was asleep and he would wake her. The plush rug muffle d his footsteps on the floor as he approached the sitting room, where Elizabeta could usually be found.

Sudden pangs of nervousness wrenched through Roderich's gut, and his hand hovered hesitantly over the doorknob. He saw his pale face reflected in the low light of the brass handle. His blueish-purple eyes were shining with the anticipation he felt in every fiber of his body. The brass him pushed his dark brown bangs back from his clammy forehead, and his thin lips quivered beside the beauty mark on the left side under his lower lip. He swallowed, gathering his courage. The ring in his pocket suddenly seemed to weigh a ton. Before he could think better of it, he turned the knob and opened the door, and looking upon the scene inside, the daffodils hit the floor and his heart broke.

There was his Hungarian beauty, seated soundly on another man's lap,, and kissing said man with fiery passion.

They stopped immediately mid-kiss, looking wide eyed at him as he stood dumb struck.

"Oh!" Eliza exclaimed, and pushed herself off the man's lap and onto the floor. "Roderich it's not what it looks like!"

But the Austrian's eyes had steeled over, and there was a burning ice in his voice as he said "No, Eliza, love. Don't mind me. Now I can see how things really are. Don't expect me to come back after today." And he turned on his heel and walked out.

Before he was all the way down the hall, he heard the man say "So that's the pretty boy you were telling me about!" and the sound of a slap rang through the dimly light house.

Roderich began to sprint, out the door and down the walk, pushing through the market, back down the hill and straight through the verdant green fields as a short cut to his large, empty house.

He felt numb as he pushed the wrought iron gate open and crunched over the gravel drive to his front door. This morning which had started out in such a lovely manor had turned sour, or maybe bitter. That was closer to the taste in his mouth. As the door clicked shut behind him, his emotions finally won out.

Hot salt tears like the Mediterranean sea fell from his eyes, and a taste uncomfortably similar to that of bile rose in his throat, causing him to dash to the bathroom. Holding his head over the cold porcelain, he retched, coughing and spitting up acid.

With a sigh he sat back against his bathtub and rested his cheek on the cool enamel coated metal. He had never felt so hurt in his life. Elizabeta had moved from Budapast, Hungary to his village when she was only ten years old. He family has used to live in a country home, near Roderich's own, and he has met Eliza while she was riding horses in a field. He thought she was a boy. For that matter, everyone had thought she was a boy, what with her habits of wearing boy's clothes and getting dirty, unlike a proper young girl.

But even all those years ago when he first saw her, wild and free, trying to stand up on the back of a horse with mud on her clothes and grass in her hair, he had found her enchanting. When she came up and introduced herself as Eli with a smile Roderich had looked away and blushed. He could remember thinking that she was the most lovely boy he had ever seen.

Things continued that way for the better part of three years, until Eliza's parents had forced her to reveal that she was a girl on her thirteenth birthday. The young bespectacled Austrians boy's forbidden crush on Eli, his best friend and playmate, rapidly morphed into a deep longing love for Elizabeta, the pretty young lady he scarcely knew.

They had danced around their budding romance for years, making one another jealous with the attention both received from admirers. Then one day Roderich came to her door with a purpose.

"Oh! Roddy, come in!" Elizabeta had given her usual informal sunny greeting, to which he had shyly and formally replied "I'm sorry, Miss Hedervary, but right now I'm here to ask your parents something. I… I'd like to be your boyfriend."

There had begun their official relationship. Just remembering the surprised and happy look on Elizabeta's face made Roderich's stomach flutter.

But now it was all for nothing.

The young man felt his face contort, fresh tears spilling out of his glassy eyes as a high pitched keening sound ripped itself from his vocal chords. He curled into a ball on the mosaic tile floor, sobs shaking his body. And he just stayed there. It seemed an eternity later that there was a hesitant knock on the bathroom door.

"Sir?" came the voice of one of his few maids, Gretchen "Sir, you have been in there since half past ten…. It is nearly two now. Are you alright?"

The girl's voice sounded concerned, and Roderich felt genuinely bad for worrying her. "I-I'm fine, Gret," he swallowed thickly "I'll be right out."

He let out a shaky breath, pushing himself up from the floor on unsteady legs. He gazed at his familiar reflection in the silver lined mirror. Blank violet tinted eyes stared back.

Gripping the edge of the sink with one hand, he turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on his face and took a deep breath. He turned the faucet off and haltingly opened the door.

The sun filtered through his white curtains, casting ghostly shadows on his deep red carpet. The Austrian ran a hand through his hair and started down the hall.

Upon entering the dining room, he found several of his maids dusting, and he could hear noises from the kitchen of the cook preparing dinner.

"Ahh, Herr Edelstein," it was his housekeeper, Lotte. "You don't look well. Perhaps you should take a nap?" her elderly face was crinkled questioningly. Roderich nodded. He was tired.

Perhaps I will, Frau Lotte, perhaps I will." He turned away and practically staggered up the stairs to his bedreeom. The bed looked wonderfully inviting, and he simply fell on it, kicking off his shoes and shedding the rest of his clothing on the way under the comforter.

Comfort was exactly what he needed right then, not that the blanket was going to give any to him, but if he wished hard enough, he could pretend the body heat it retained was Elizabeta's warm embrace.

Roderich Edelstein went to bed planning not to get up any time soon. And he didn't.

When Roderich said he was staying in bed, he meant it. It was four weeks later that a visitor hoping to see the suddenly reclusive man forced him to rise again. Though he shooed the visitor out, hoping to stay in his bedridden melancholy state of mind, he found afterward that he could not bring himself to return to bed. He had finally overcome the moping stage of breaking up with Elizabeta, and was at that point rather angry.

He was in fact so angry that he actually wanted to go into town, get drunk and get in a good fight. A situation like this was exceedingly rare; Roderich was not a heavy drinker, nor was he violent or a very good fighter.

But no one is perfect, so at eight p.m., he got properly dressed, bid his housekeeper a good night, and walked out the door.

The bar was crowded when he got there, making his way to the darkest back corner. A waitress came up to him immediately with a vacant smile. "What will you have, Herr Edelstein?" she bubbled. Roderich attempted to match her cheerfulness, but ended up giving her a rueful grimace.

"Just give me whatever is cheap and good." He waved her away. She was back five minutes later with his beer. "Here you are, Roderich!" she said, setting his drink on the table with a shy giggle. He sipped the foam off the top of the mug. "Start up a tab for me, will you?" she giggle more, nodded and flounced away, drawing wolf whistles from the nearby group of soldiers.

Ignoring, or trying to, their obnoxious laughter, the purple eyed man downed his beer in one go, then called for another. Eight mugs later he was feeling light headed.

A new group of soldiers of soldiers spilled in the door, and Roderich fleetingly wondered how the war was going. He was about to shrug it off, when a peculiar grating voice reached his ears. The same one he had heard in Elizabeta's house all those days ago.

He jumped up from his seat, knocking his chair and table over anf sending the glasses crashing to the ground.

"YOU!" he shouted, pointing a finger at the man. The entire bar fell silent. There in the warm yellow light of the tavern, Roderich could see the face of hid adversary clearly for the first time.

He was pale, paler than Roderich, with white blonde hair and reddish brown eyes. His lips were fixed in a crooked smirk and he had an air of arrogance about him.

The man snickered. "Me?" walking forward he extended an arm and flicked Roderich's tie. "Hey, aren't you Boy from the other day at Liz's" the brunette was shaking with rage.

"Yes, yes I am." The other man laughed. "Your pretty mad about that whole thing still, aren't ya? I'm not gonna lie, she's quite the feisty little catch. Took me weeks to get her to come around. Course after that it was smooth as silk. Yep she went down easy like any common who-"

He was stopped mid sentence as Roderich's fist connected hard with his face. The purple eyed man was breathing heavily. "Don't ever say that about Elizabeta. EVER!" the German smirked even more and wiped some blood off his face.

"You're a bit protective, aren't ya? But probably only cause what I was saying was true. Whatever though. I like that in a person! Defending your girl!" Roderich frowned. "Eliza's not my girl anymore." The other man rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever. The names Gilbert Beilshmidt by the way. So you can know the name of the man who stole your woman! I'm kidding, but seriously. Nice t'meetcha!"

Gilbert held out a hand from where he had been knocked back against the wall.

"Fuck you!" Roderich yelled and ran at him. Gilbert easily evaded the drunk Austrian, dodging the punch and tripping him. Dazed and on the floor, Roderich struggled to get his bearings, the world swimming before him. His glasses had fallen off, and he grabbed them off the floor and shoved them into the hand of the waitress from before.

Gilbert was standing over him. "Just give up, specs! I could beat you even if you weren't drunk!" drawing on every reserve of strength and agility he had, Roderich rolled onto his stomach and pushed his legs into the air, kicking Gilbert in the face, sort of like a backwards jack knife. The brunette landed unsteadily on his feet while Gilbert was thrown back into the other soldiers.

Roderich sniffed "I'm very insulted! First you take Eliza from me, now you belittle my fighting skill! I won't just sit back and take this!" he wished hi voice didn't seem so stiff and prim. He wished he could stoop low enough to cuss Gilbert out effectively. He always felt ridiculous when he tried to sound aggressive. Cold he could do, but hotblooded and aggressive were out of his spectrum. Apparently Gilbert felt that way as well.

"Wow, pansy boy's mad! And he's got some moves, too!" the silver blonde's friends pushed him back into the circle of people where Gilbert and Roderich were fighting. "Kick his ass!" one yelled. Gilbert cracked his knuckles. "Oi, specs, I hope you know this is nothing personal. Your ass is drunk and I just can't walk away from a fight easy. I'll come visit you in the hospital after I'm done here!"

Roderich snorted and rolled his shoulders. He was well aware he was about to take a beating. After all, Gilbert was a trained soldier. Roderich was just a rich aristocrat.

Just as Roderich was about to attack, hoping to get the upper hand for a moment, Gilbert lunged forward, ramming his elbow into the Austrian's stomach, then quicker than the brunette could see, followed the elbow with a powerful uppercut to the jaw. Roderich staggered back, but before he could so much as take a breath, Gil was coming at him again, kicking him squarely in the chest. The Austrian fell backward, landing on a chair and breaking it. He cringed a little at the impact, but even more as the albino man walked toward him, crouching over the brunette with one leg on either side of him.

Grabbing hold of Roderich's jacket collar, Gilbert pulled the other man up to eye level. "Now, it's really gonna be a shame when I mess up your pretty face. But as a good friend of mine likes to say, c'est la vie. I'll try to stay away from your nose." The silver blonde drew back his fist and Roderich turned his face away, bracing for the blow.

The door slammed open, "EVERYONE, STOP WHERE YOU ARE! Hands off Roderich, Herr Beilshmidt! Another allegation like this and you'll be arrested, no matter who your goddamn brother is! Do you understand?"

Vash, the town police officer, had come to Roderich's rescue again. They had grown up together and had been very begrudgingly close when they were young. They had had a major fallout right before Elizabeta moved in, but before then Vash was constantly defending his brunette friend, and old habits die hard.

Gilbert released Roderich's blue coat and Vash stomped over, pointing his gun at anyone who looked at him wrong. "Get up, Rod." He said gruffly, holding out a helping hand to his old friend. Act hostile as he would, Vash's body language always betrayed him. Roderich could see the rosy pink blush on the blond man's face as he took the offered hand and helped himself up.

The waitress handed him his glasses and the brunette took them, muttering a thanks. Vash kept hold of his hand and pulled him out of the bar. When they were a ways down the road, Roderich tripped and fell giddy in the grass.

Bringing a hand up to cover his face, Vash sighed. "Rod, get up." The Austrian coughed softly and attempted to stand, but it was as if his legs were made of jelly.

"S-sorry Vash." Roderich said as his old friend crouched down with his back to the brunette. "Climb on." The purple eyed man could hear the blush in the other's voice. He smiled to himself and crawled onto Vash's back. The policeman stood up and started down the dirt road, lit by the radiant country stars. The moon itself was half full and the night was balmy with barely a breeze. Roderich found himself reminded of a night he hadn't thought of in a long time.

"Vash?" he said, resting his still spinning head on the blonde's shoulder. "What?" Roderich swallowed. "Do you… do you remember the night I got in a fight with Johan, years ago when we were kids?" he felt Vash's spine stiffen under him. "Yes. I do. What about it?" his words were clipped and short; obviously he was still uncomfortable talking about the event that had taken place on that starry night in the past, so similar to this one. But Roderich was still tipsy, and he didn't care.

"That night was just like this one, except we were eleven. It was the year we had our big fight, the year Eliza moved here." Roderich smiled fondly at the memory. His house was directly in front of them now, it's lights shining into the night like beacons.

"What's your point?" the blonde policeman sighed. "Do you remember how you kissed me on my back porch? That was really nice. I liked kissing you." Before Roderich realized it, they had gone through the gate and turned off the gravel, walking through the grass and around the back of Roderich's house.

When they were on the brunette's porch, Vash set the other man down and turned him so they were facing each other. "I liked kissing you too." Said Vash quietly, and his green eyes closed. Roderich closed his eyes as well, and in unison they leaned forward, lips meeting in a ghost of a kiss.

As soon as it had come, it was gone, and so was Vash.

From across the lawn he yelled "Go to sleep you drunk idiot!" and disappeared into the night.

Roderich turned and went in his house, going to bed with a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest.

_**Allo, allo! This is me speaking, thanking you for reading this story! Uhh, yeah I know it says this is PruAus, so you're probably like "Where is it?"**_

_**I assure you, it WILL be the main pairing in this fanfic! I know this chapter contains dubious amounts of AusSwiss and plenty of romantic AusHun, but seriously, the whole reason this story exists is to be PruAus. Trust me!**_

_**Expect infrequent to weekly updates. I have no schedule.**_

_**Reviews are well loved, as always! And feel free to pm me for any reason!**_

_**Till next we meet!**_

_**-stole-my-fish-**_


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